


We Were Made To Be Held Tenderly (To Hold Tenderly)

by CHEKOVwildrose



Category: Outer Banks (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, but only because they don't know John B and Sarah are alive, except I just ignored the pope/kie kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:53:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24366103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CHEKOVwildrose/pseuds/CHEKOVwildrose
Summary: JJ knows the power of touch. He knows the spring-warmed delight of his mother’s hand as she brushes his blond curls back, the better to see his eyes. He knows the steadying press of John B’s arm thrown over his shoulders. The gentle weight that always ropes together his fraying edges and slides his feet more firmly back into his shoes. He’s tasted the staying power of a loving touch. But he has gorged himself on red hot, hate filled hands and the memory sits heavy in his stomach.
Relationships: JJ & John B. Routledge, JJ/Pope (Outer Banks)
Comments: 32
Kudos: 192





	We Were Made To Be Held Tenderly (To Hold Tenderly)

**Author's Note:**

> Heads up it does deal with the death of JJ's mom and the presumed death of John B so tread lightly if needed. I do not own these characters I just like them a lot.

_As human being we are made to be held tenderly. We are crafted with fingers so we can delicately trace a loved one's face, lips so we can press kisses. We are given lungs so our breath can be taken away by the gentleness of love. We are given tongues to whisper soft words and ears to hear them and shoulders to shudder at their effect._

_But we cannot live on words alone. They can be dripped sweet as honey, so decadent that we can practically pluck them out of the air to smear stickily on our skin. They can roll across our chests, and trickle down our spines, ravishing against open flesh. But words cannot last. As soon as they fall out of the air our skin starves and our souls cry out in agony. Only the warmth of touch has any staying power._

JJ knows the power of touch. He knows the spring-warmed delight of his mother's hand as she brushes his blond curls back, the better to see his eyes. He knows the steadying press of John B's arm thrown over his shoulders. The gentle weight that always ropes together his fraying edges and slides his feet more firmly back into his shoes. He's tasted the staying power of a loving touch. But he has gorged himself on red hot, hate filled hands and the memory sits heavy in his stomach.

These touches have staying power too. Long after bruises fade, cuts scab over and knit back together to smooth into scars do these touches linger. They stick to JJ's skin and make a home in his memory. No matter how he tries to shake them they hold on tight, taking up more and more room until some nights its's all he can see, all he can hear and every touch feels violent. They infect his heart and block out his brain until his mother's hand on his forehead begins to fade. Did she wear rings that brushed cool against his sun-hot face? Was her palm smooth and soft or calloused from the strain of loving an angry man?

Her face starts to blur so he stares into mirrors, picking out her bright blue eyes, the quirk of her smile on his own face. Knowing what was hers by decoding what couldn't have come from his father. He does it in snatches. Stolen moments that never add up to remembering her face but feel precious just the same. Doubly so when paired with her words that he plays over and over again in his head. _We were made to be held tenderly_.

They feel like a lie. His father reminds him too often how much they feel like a lie. Maybe people are made for tenderness but maybe some people just aren't that lucky. He thinks of John B, of Kie, of Pope. Maybe he could still be that lucky.

So he leans in. It’s easy with John B. When they are all out at the beach the four of them sitting on a log in front of the fire. JJ’s face hurts from laughing, he can feel John B shaking next to him. Pope has collapsed on the ground, floored by beer and Kiara’s impressions of the kook party her mom made her go to. The flames of the fire warm JJ skin to muscle to bone. The beer they’ve been drinking warms him belly to limbs to brain. It is a night for safety. The first night they’ve laughed non-stop since Kie came back. They exist in a bubble of warmth. JJ can’t see beyond the fire’s glow and it doesn’t matter, because outside of the fire doesn’t exist. Just him, the fire, and his friends. So when John B throws an arm over his shoulder it's easy to lean in. It’s easy to grunt unhappily and lean closer when John B goes to lift his arm away. It's easy to press his shoulder to John B’s side and silently beg to be held a moment longer. JJ just closes his eyes and keeps laughing. He ignores the momentary silence from the other three. He knows John B’s arm is hanging stupidly over his shoulder, he can feel John B glance up to Kie. He doesn’t have to look to know she’s miming at John B to stop being a fucking idiot and drop his arm back down.

He feels John B’s chuckle rumble up through his chest and then a heavy arm is across his shoulders again. JJ opens his eyes to see Kie contort her face, crossing her eyes and sticking her chin out as she reenacts whatever stupid conversation Topper had tried to have with her. JJ’s eyes slide around the circle. John B is crying, laughing so hard he shakes JJ along with him. Pope though is quiet again. He’s watching JJ, a soft smile tugging at his lips. JJ could read a thousand things in that smile, but he looks away quickly. John B gently squeezes his shoulder and JJ feels something in his heart unlock. _Made to be held tenderly_.

The words echo over and over again. He finds they repeat when he least expects it. He hears it when they drive past Sarah Cameron and Kie forgets to hide her hurt with anger or disdain. JJ always slams the van door open, leaning out to yell and flip her the bird. He knows it pisses Kie off, but it also makes her laugh and gives her an excuse to hold onto someone for a moment when she grabs him round the waist and pulls him back inside.

“You fucking idiot,” she always yells. But she’s smiling again when she slams the door back shut.

He hears it on days when they’re all at the Chateau, bored out of their minds but unwilling to be anywhere else. They’ll play music, smoke weed, Pope will read, but eventually it’ll burn out and they’ll be left in silence. JJ hates silence. One such night, after they were unable to muster the energy for a kegger, they all lay sprawled across the living room.

“JJ.” Kie sits bolt upright on the couch she’s claimed since the morning.” Come sit here.” She points to the floor in front of her.

“M’not a dog,” JJ grumbles. But he’s been staring at the same patch of ceiling for hours so really anything else sounds like a good idea. He slumps against the couch and immediately feels Kie’s fingers brush his hair off his forehead. His breath catches, half a memory floating back to him. He let’s it float up to him, blue eyes and a warm smile, smooth hands brushing through his curls, and he lets it float away.

Kie’s fingers are practiced as they gather his hair, deftly keeping her rings out of the way. It feels like she might be trying to braid it. JJ’s seen her do this with John B’s hair before but his has always been too short. A few frustrated sighs from Kie tell him it probably still is. He gathers himself, preparing to be pushed back to stare at his spot of ceiling. Instead, she just starts running her fingers through his hair. No purpose except to keep doing something. JJ holds his breath as she works through a knot. _Held tenderly._

Then one day, in a voice that sounds like Pope, JJ thinks _if we are made to be held tenderly we must also be made to hold tenderly._ He looks down at his own hands. They are calloused, perpetually scraped and stained from working on engines. They are his father’s hands. The same black grease stays under his fingernails. The same angry scuff marks mar his knuckles. He wonders if his mother could still brush his forehead if she saw him now. He wonders if he could hold her. If he was capable of being loving, or if she took that part of him away with her.

He tries to believe that isn’t true. He tries to prove his gentleness. When he reaches out for Kie’s hand, helping her into the boat he does his best not to crush her fingers. He tries to be loving. When John B is passed out on the floor, three weeks since they’ve last seen Big John, JJ brushes his hair off his face and hauls him into bed. And in the morning his hands are as gentle as he can make them when they catch John B as he falls sobbing against JJ’s chest.

With Pope it’s different. With Pope it’s always different. JJ does not know how to reach for Pope gently. He knows he can’t touch Pope, at least not in the way he wants to. He looks at his hands and they never seem to be enough. They are too dirty, and the pinky and ring finger of his left hand are crooked from when his father smashed them. They had broken in two places each and JJ had taken the braces off too early for them to heal properly. His hands may have been made for tracing a loved one’s face but his father has reshaped them for other purposes. They are not hands fit for holding Pope.

But JJ aches for it. With mangled hands and split lips he can’t help but reach for it. He might not be able to take Pope’s breath away with gentleness but he can steal it. And JJ has always been a good thief. He makes him laugh, he makes him laugh over and over again until Pope is gasping for air. He whispers conspiratorially into Pope’s ear until he laughs so hard he has to push JJ away to make him stop. Until his shoulders shake and tears stream down his face. Until he has forgotten the world and the expectations that come along with it and is left with the sole task of figuring out how to breath and laugh at the same time.

And sometimes, if JJ is lucky Pope will look at him. When JJ has stopped whispering and Pope has stopped laughing and is just catching his breath. Wiping a tear from his eye he’ll look up and JJ swears in that moment Pope lays him bare. In that moment Pope knows exactly what JJ is trying to do. Like he sees through JJ’s clumsy attempts and recognizes what it is to be held tenderly. When Pope looks at him like that JJ’s heart always stops and he thinks of doing something crazy.

But this isn’t his kind of crazy he reasons every time he drops his gaze. This is harder than that. This isn’t running headlong into a fight; it's a strategic op and he always has relied on Pope for those. So he whispers to put smiles on Pope’s lips and to steal laughter from his lungs and then pretends he doesn’t notice Pope’s shoulders slump when he can’t hold his gaze. And then John B cracks to code about the gold and they’re running for their lives. And then John B is running for his freedom and things heat up with JJ’s dad. That night when the truth pours out and Kie takes him into her arms JJ can feel Pope’s eyes on him. _See_ , he wants to scream. _See! I almost killed him! These hands can’t hold tenderly._

“I just wanna do the right thing,” comes out instead. When Pope’s arms join Kie’s around him it feels like absolution. JJ lets his head tip against Pope’s chest, letting Kie hold him up. Lets his friends hold him together, if just for a moment.

But the rest of the world keeps turning and none of them seem able to catch a break. John B’s situation goes from bad to worse and then he’s waving goodbye on the _Phantom_ and JJ thinks he might’ve just saved his best friend’s life. And it’ll be worth it. Even when his father wakes up and realizes what he’s done. Or the countless times after that, when JJ will have nowhere to go to escape his father’s anger. There will be no more Chateau, no John B to wipe the blood off his face. But it’ll be okay because John B will be safe and once he gets the gold back JJ knows he’ll have a permanent escape. Whatever happens until then JJ knows he’ll figure out how to survive. That’s his kind of crazy.

Except then Shoupe is walking up to them saying it was all for nothing. That the storm took them and JJ has nothing. He doesn’t remember the rest of that night. He doesn’t remember attacking the cops, or being pulled close by Heyward, or Pope’s family letting him stay the night. JJ doesn’t remember the rain, or the cold, or the sound of Kie’s sobbing into her mother’s shoulder. He just wakes up the next morning lying next to Pope knowing something terrible has happened.

He wants to be there when Pope wakes up. But he also wants John B to be alive, and the _Phantom_ to not be somewhere on the bottom of the ocean. He wants to not be hit anymore. And for his mother to be home, with a smile and to brush his hair back and kiss his forehead. John B had been the one to take his hand the day she’d died. He’d walked hand in hand with JJ to the ocean where they’d thrown rocks into the waves until JJ broke down and started crying. It had been John B who had wiped away his tears with the bottom of his t-shirt and begged Big John to let him stay for a week. It had been his mother who had held him tenderly, and then John B and now they were both gone.

It’s all too much. JJ feels his eyes burn, his chest feels too tight. Grief occupies every corner of his body pushing out against his skin and the Heyward house is too small to hold all of him together. He sneaks out the window before Pope wakes up and does his best to avoid his friends after that.

_Made to be held tenderly_ , his mother’s voice echoes but he pushes it away. He’s good at it, he’s always been good at hiding. From his dad, from DCS, hiding the truth from his friends and teachers. Hiding from other truths, the thought creeps into his mind but he pushes that away too. He’s a natural at hiding.

He manages a month before a pissed off Kiara tracks him down on the beach and screams at him for two straight minutes. He takes it silently. He knows how to harden his heart and weather rage. He knows how to hide in plain sight. He thinks he’s going to make it through too. That Kie will shout herself out and then turn and storm away and he won’t ever hear from them again. He starts counting down. _10_. She is gesticulating wildly. _8_. She usually starts throwing her arms around like that when she most worked up. _5_. And then she tanks. _3_. She’ll take a huge breath and it's like all the fight whooshes out at once. _1_. But suddenly JJ has an armful of sobbing Kie. Her hands fist in the back of his t-shirt and she buries her face in his shoulder.

“You don’t get to leave me too.” The words knock JJ off balance, leave him grasping. He can’t think of anything to say so he lifts his arms and wraps them around her. When he starts shaking from his own tears she doesn’t say anything, just holds him tighter. It’s not gentle. But it’s grounding, it feels like the first breath after being underwater for too long. Painful, but vital too. They stay that way, holding onto each other tightly until he hears Pope clear his throat. JJ looks up and there he is. He stands a few feet away, holding the van keys, twirling the ring around his finger. JJ watches the key chain glint in the sunshine. Pope clears his throat again and looks from Kie to JJ. His face is guarded and JJ looks away before he can see anything more in his expression.

They all end up at the Chateau. Kie pulls out some weed but it sits untouched on the counter. It feels wrong somehow without John B here to share it with them. They stand awkwardly in the kitchen, Pope stares at his feet, JJ picks at his fingernails while Kie rolls her pipe back and forth on the counter. JJ glances at Pope, he knows the next move is on them. Kie was brave in getting them all here, someone else has to take the reigns now. But Pope doesn’t catch his gaze. JJ fidgets again, trying to think of something to say, or do.

“Have you guys eaten?” he asks, moving towards the cabinets. Pope huffs out a sigh and then grabs each of them and pushes them towards the couch. They fall onto it. Kie in her favorite spot against he armrest, then JJ with Pope pushing them both over until there was room for him too. JJ always thought they were best like this, piled together on one of John B’s couches. But it’s been so long it feels like their edges might not line up anymore. They sit quietly, the press of all they need to say to each other weighing heavy in the air. Kie slips her hand into JJ’s and JJ desperately wishes he was brave enough to reach for Pope’s hand, to tether them all together somehow.

“JJ where have you been staying?” Pope’s voice is calm and keeps his eyes straight forward as he asks. JJ feels Kie tense next to him, her hand squeezing his briefly.

“I’ve been around. I was here a bit and Ms. Lana found me and I’ve been staying with her a bit too.” She’d found him on the beach one night. He’d been piss drunk and bruised from when he had finally risked going home. She said she’d felt bad after what had happened to John B. JJ apparently had been the way she’d chosen to make amends.

“You go home at all?” Pope’s voice is still too calm, his eyes stuck to the wall opposite them. JJ glances at the wall but it’s the same picture of a boat that has always been there.

“Uh yeah, I’ve been there a bit too.” JJ bites the nails of his free hand. Pope’s calm unnerving him.

“He find out about the _Phantom_?” JJ thinks Pope would make a good cop if he ever abandons his coroner dream. He can tell Pope is working towards something but he can’t figure out where the trap is or how to avoid it.

“Yeah, he wasn’t too happy ‘bout that.” There’s no point denying it. JJ still has yellow bruises on his ribs from that night, and there’s a scar on his forehead that wasn’t there the last time they saw him.

“Bro you promised!” The words sound like they were punched out from behind Pope’s teeth. His hands ball up in his shorts but his eyes stay locked on the wall.

“Pope-” Kie starts.

“No he promised! He promised he wasn’t gonna go back.” Pope whirls around finally looking at JJ. JJ thought it would be better than having Pope’s eyes glued to the wall but he was wrong.

“You promised me! That night you swore you wouldn’t go back.” JJ frantically tries to think back, to think of when he would’ve said such a thing. “And then I wake up and you’re just gone and no one can find you. I thought he’d killed you!” JJ flinches back into Kie, pulling his hand free. His ears are ringing and all he can hear is his heart beat pounding and his own ragged breath. He blinks hard trying to refocus on what he realizes are his knees drawn up in front of him.

“Pope what the fuck?” Kie is still sitting beside him. That must be her hand on his shoulder. “JJ? JJ can you hear me?” JJ closes his eyes again and tries to focus on his breathing. John B had taught him how to count his breaths to help him calm down when he panicked. JJ had refused to let John B ask Pope or Kie what to do so they’d spent the most boring afternoon of his life in the library researching until John B was satisfied he could help.

“Yeah,” and suddenly JJ is tired. The past month catches up to him, his father catches up to him, losing John B catches up to him. He feels his eyes burn and drops his forehead to rest on his knees. Not to hide from Kie or Pope, he’s just too tired to hold himself up anymore. “I’m sorry Pope.” He whispers. “I didn’t remember. And I didn’t care, I just didn’t wanna not have John B around.” The couch sinks down next to him and he realizes Pope must’ve stood up at some point. “I didn’t wanna lose him and I couldn’t think- I just had to.” Kie’s hand has moved to his back and slowly rubs circles between his shoulder blades. He feels her press a kiss to his head before the couch shifts again and she stands up.

“You guys need to talk about this. I’m gonna go smoke in the hammock.” JJ doesn’t move. He counts his breaths and then when he’s calmer he turns his head so he can see Pope. He looks rough. There are dark circles under his eyes and a grimness to the set of his mouth JJ isn’t used to seeing on his friends face. He stares, taking his time cataloging what he’s missed. For the most part Pope looks the same, a loving family and his mother’s cooking could ward off a lot of evil. But the toll of this past month is in the details of Pope’s face. The skin under his eyes looks frail and papery and JJ wants to touch it, if only to make sure it doesn’t shatter. There is a hardness in Pope’s eyes and JJ knows part of it is him trying to hold back his tears but there’s more to it than that. JJ thinks maybe Pope knows some of the exhaustion he is feeling. He looks older. Pope’s always felt older than the rest of them, the voice of reason in all their plans. But seeing him look it is unsettling.

“Pope,” JJ’s voice comes out a ragged whisper. And just like every time he says his name, whether to whisper in his ear, or to call for help Pope turns to him. JJ can feel the weight of his gaze and Pope’s eyes finally find him again. He just stares, taking in Pope staring right back at him. He takes it all in, the anger, the hurt, the grief that Pope can’t quite fully hide in his dark eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lie to you.” Pope’s expression hardens and something shifts behind his eyes. JJ finds himself frozen by Pope’s gaze. His eyes are granite and JJ thinks he looks pissed except he’s seen Pope pissed, and he’s never seen this look on Pope’s face before. Pope moves slowly, two strong hands coming up to gently lift JJ’s face from his knees. His hands are warm and dry and JJ doesn’t move an inch, just lets Pope brush his thumb along JJ’s jaw. The rest of the Chateau falls away, his world boiled down to Pope’s dark eyes, to Pope’s fingertips, to his own heart slamming in his chest.

“Just trust that we want to help you.” Pope shakes him a little with each word. Desperation. That’s the hardness in Pope’s eyes. JJ feels stupid for not recognizing it earlier. He’s seen it a thousand times on his own face, but never in Pope’s before. A realization feels like it’s dawning in the back of JJ’s mind but he can’t quite wrap his mind around it.

“Okay?” Pope’s voice cracks. And JJ watches in awe as Pope’s dark eyes well up. He watches a single tear fall down Pope’s cheek and the realization thuds into place.

“Okay. Okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.” The words come tumbling out. “I didn’t think I just-” but the rest of what he was gonna say gets cut off as Pope pulls him in. JJ fists one hand in Pope’s shirt, and wraps the other tightly around his waist. Pope’s wiry arms squeeze tighter and tighter around JJ’s shoulders. He thinks back to Midsummers when Pope had held him just as tightly, crushing them together. He thinks of how he’d pulled back, too mindful of the Kook guests surrounding them. He doesn’t pull back now.

Eventually, Pope moves away. JJ watches him wipe tears from his cheeks and then holds his breath as Pope reaches out to do the same for him. He would do anything to keep the closeness between them. To keep Pope within arms reach all the time. And then Pope looks at him, like he looks at him when JJ used to make him laugh all those weeks ago. Like he knows some secret about JJ and is waiting for him to know it too. For once, JJ looks back at him. _I know_ , he wants to say. _I think I’m figuring it out_. He watches Pope’s smile creep onto his face. It’s small and private, made just for JJ. His heart hammers as he realizes he wants to lean in and press his lips to that smile. To taste it.

He doesn’t. Tonight is about healing the past. He can wait to build something new. Instead, he stands up, taking Pope’s hand to drag him up too.

“C’mon, or Kie’ll smoke all the weed without us.” When Pope doesn’t let go, just turns to head for the door, JJ lets himself be pulled along. Pope’s hand feels right in his and JJ can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips. His crooked fingers stay wrapped around Pope’s for the rest of the night, and for the first time in weeks he hears his mother’s words again. _We were made to be held tenderly, therefore we were made to hold tenderly._

**Author's Note:**

> I do have a part two planned where they might actually finally kiss so let me know if you're interested in it!  
> Also I'm hmspogues on tumblr if you want to come chat about obx!


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